Nord Crusher
by ShiftyBiscuit
Summary: A Civil War plagues the land of Skyrim, dragons rule the skies, people live in terror, and one man stands at the center of everything. Blessed with godlike strength, Søren will embark on a crusade as the Dragonborn. Followed by his faithful housecarl, Lydia, the two will carve a path of flesh and bone, and both dragon and men alike will taste the wrathful fist of a Nord Crusher.


Nord Crusher

He was a true Nord if she had ever seen one. Standing more than half a body higher than his kinsmen, he was a hulking mass of muscle, with a mane of thick, dark dreadlocks, cascading halfway down his back, a scruffy face chiseled from the gods, and piercing gray eyes that held a sharp, dangerous intellect behind them, he was the kind of man that carved legends in his wake.

It shamed her to say that he was also the kind of man she'd bed in an instant, had she no restraint. But alas, she had quite a great deal of restraint, and she was in the presence of her uncle, the Jarl, as well as her new Thane, and it wouldn't do for her initial impression be one of weakness or foolishness. She was not some flighty barmaid; she was a Nord woman, and that meant she was a _strong_ woman. She would bring him honor as his housecarl, serving faithfully till death, if need be. Sure, it wasn't her ideal life, but it was something that she would hopefully be remembered for, which would bring her family honor.

Stepping forward, she cleared her throat before addressing her new Thane, and although she had to crane her neck upwards to make eye contact, her voice didn't waver. He was _much_ more intimidating up close.

"The Jarl has appointed me to be your housecarl. It's an honor to serve you."

His eyes flashed in amusement, and he looked upon her silently for a moment, studying her with a great deal of scrutiny. When he was satisfied, he spoke, his voice surprisingly soft, though pleasantly low in tone, with a thick Nordic accent.

"Everyone tells me that I'm the new Thane, but what exactly does that mean?"

That confused her greatly. Was her new Thane not of Skyrim?

"Well, being a Thane requires that the Jarl has recognized you as a person of great importance in the hold. A hero. The title of Thane is an honor, a gift for your service. Guards will look the other way, if you tell them who you are."

Her new Thane nodded slowly, absorbing the information being dumped upon him, and after a moment he spoke again, looking at her with a growing curiosity.

"You also mentioned something about being a housecarl earlier… What exactly does one do when they are a housecarl?"

She sighed inwardly. He really was clueless, but at least he wasn't truly ignorant.

"As my Thane, I'm sworn to your service. I'll guard you and all you own, with my life."

His brow creased lightly, as if he were displeased with the arrangement, and a sudden fear washed over her. What if he rejected her? Oh _gods_, that would be the ultimate disgrace, for both her and her family. Every man, woman, and child in Whiterun would know her as 'Lydia Battle-Born, the woman the Dragonborn found unsuitable' by the end of the day, and they would whisper and laugh to each other behind her back as she passed them by on her daily patrol. Her reputation would be damaged beyond repair if he was to request another housecarl, and she would surely never marry.

"It sounds like you are nothing more than a glorified slave. I dislike that." Her eyes widened at that statement. He _was_ going to reject her! Gods have mercy!

"My thane, I _assure_ you I have no problems with it! I _implore_ you, _please_ accept me as your housecarl! I wish for nothing greater than the privilege to serve by your side!" It was as close to begging as she would ever come, but her pride and the pride of her family was at stake. Although she was far from being on her knees, the desperation was evident in her voice, and the look of shock on his face made her realize just how ridiculous she must have sounded.

He was silent for a moment, his shock fading to deep contemplation, and when he finally decided to speak, he looked to her with an intensity few could hope to match.

"You're quite sure you'd prefer a life of servitude to one of freedom?" He asked quietly, locking eyes with her. In that moment, all of her fears and insecurities gave way to relief and self-assurance. Her Thane was going to take her on as a housecarl after all! She would be respected and remembered in town, and her family would be honored in turn.

Holding eye contact with him, she stood upright and spoke with as much dignity and cordiality as she could muster.

"Of course, my Thane." He nodded slowly in acceptance, turning to face her fully.

"Your name is Lydia, right? It's quite a beautiful name." She bowed lightly in acceptance, hoping to hide the blush on her face.

"You honor me, my Thane."

"It is not a problem. My name is Søren, by the way." And with that said, Søren turned and walked from the hall, his housecarl following in her first trip with her new Thane.

* * *

The moment she set foot outside of Dragonsreach, Lydia could feel the town's eyes upon her and her Thane. With her head held high, she took each step with pride. She had done her family proud, and all of Whiterun would know of the honor she had bestowed upon the Battle-Born name! They would be speaking about her for months, and the fact that she was the housecarl to the man who could quite possibly be the most attractive Nord in Whiterun (who also happened to be the Dragonborn of all people) would only help to bolster her reputation further! It was a dream come true! If she kept this up-

"Hold this." Søren's distracted voice shot her head out of the sky quicker than a dragon's fire, and she was shocked to find they had traveled all the way across town to Warmaiden's, with her Thane absentmindedly waving a small sack of dark ingots in her face while exchanging words with one of the local blacksmiths, Adrianne, who stood outside the shop.

At first, Lydia was shocked. She was most certainly no pack mule! She was nothing of the sort! _She_ was Lydia Battle-Born, a veteran warrior, and the niece of the Jarl of Whiterun, not some common beast… But she was also a housecarl, and being selected as a housecarl meant a lifetime of devotion and servitude, and servitude meant bearing the Thane's burdens at times, whether they be emotional, spiritual, or physical.

This was most certainly a physical burden, which merited only one response from Lydia.

"I am sworn to carry your burdens, my Thane."

His eyes shot her an amused look for a split second as he continued on with Adrianne, in what Lydia assumed to be a very intense bartering session. They spoke heatedly, or rather, Adrianne spoke heatedly, and Søren shook his head and disagreed. If she wasn't so annoyed with her Thane, Lydia had no doubt that she would find his method of bartering quite humorous. She was, however, mildly irritated with Søren, so she chose instead to stand off to the side with a mask of indifference.

After what seemed like ages, Adrianne gave a grunt of frustration, glaring heatedly at the giant Nord that towered over her.

"Fine, but only because you bring me such good business with that armor of yours." She threw her hand to the side in an angry, dismissive gesture, and the shark-like grin on Søren's face stood as a testament to his finesse in negotiating. Handing Adrianne a small sack of coin, they exchanged further goods, and soon, their conversation drifted toward more pleasant topics.

Eventually, Adrianne left to attend her business; the sun bled into the sky as the day drew to a close, and finally, Søren saw it fit to address his new housecarl.

"Come. We'll make you armor fit for battle."

At this statement, she looked up at him, shocked and a mite bit offended. The armor she wore had been passed down in her family for generations! She had slaved over it for hours, meticulously maintaining, polishing, and repairing it, and she was proud to wear it for her family.

"Does my Thane not deem my armor suitable?" There was a slight edge to her voice, but the Dragonborn ignored it in favor of the forge. Attending to the flames, he held out his hand absentmindedly, and was rewarded with the sack he had purchased earlier being thrust rather aggressively into his grasp, but it did nothing to alarm him. Without looking back, he addressed her firmly.

"Your armor is maintained well, and that is fine, but you will gain more use from something that is durable and offers more protection. We are slaying dragons now, not men, and dragons hold no honor. Remember that."

Suddenly, fear edged its way into the back of her mind. She wasn't just going to go questing and adventuring like any other housecarl. She was going to hunt down and slay _dragons_. She and _one man_ were going to hunt down and kill the 'Beasts of Legend'. _Alone_. There would be no help, and if she died, it would no doubt be the most horrific and painful death she could imagine.

Oh gods, what had she gotten herself into?

After a few minutes of silence, the hammer and anvil droning on in the background, Søren spared a glance at his housecarl, and was mildly surprised at the fear and uncertainty that played across her face. It would be a shame if she backed out now, but than again, not many people would willingly go toe-to-toe with a dragon, and she had a family, friends, and a home to look out for.

"If you don't think this job is for you, you don't have to take it. It's understandable that you would be afraid. If you'd like, we can talk to the Jarl tomorrow. We can part ways without issues." He spoke softly, hammering out the armor, and as if brought out from a trance, she spoke.

"H-how was it? Killing the dragon, I mean." Her voice was meek, but also curious, and in the back of her head, Lydia cursed herself for stuttering.

"Terrifying. But it gets easier." He was blunt and honest, but she found it oddly refreshing. Suddenly she wasn't so scared anymore.

"Oh?"

A wolfish grin graced his features, and in the light of the fires, he looked truly sinister.

"Once you realize they can be killed, it is only a matter of time." That comment piqued her curiosity, and before she could stop herself, she spoke.

"And just how did you slay your dragon?"

"I punched it." She looked at him in disbelief.

"You _punched_ it?"

"Yes." He looked at Lydia as if what he had just said was not in the least bit ridiculous, and that _she_ was being utterly outlandish for even thinking otherwise.

"Wait, so you're telling me that with _one _punch, _you_ killed a dragon." She was skeptical at best. Just who the hell slays a dragon with their fist?

"More like five or six, actually, and I _did_ punch it in the face." He replied matter-of-factly as he resumed working with the armor in earnest.

"Unbelievable." She muttered, shaking her head in disbelief.

* * *

"Lydia… Lydia, wake up!" Søren's voice cut through the haze of sleep, and Lydia found herself suddenly awake and alert. She had fallen asleep while relaxing on the tanning rack's stool. It was quite late at night now, and her _beloved_ Thane was not two inches from her face. Did he know nothing of personal space?

He gave her a slight smile before setting a whole suit of armor in her lap.

"Here, _this_ is armor fit to slay a dragon."

And indeed it was. In her lap lay the most beautiful set of ebony armor she had ever laid eyes upon, complete with a matching broadsword and bow. Each piece was crafted expertly, with the utmost care to detail, and looked to have been customized, so as to fit to her frame seamlessly. The materials alone must have cost a small fortune, and almost immediately, she felt a sense of shame. This was too much. Armor like this was suited for Lords, not servants.

Looking up at him, she noticed that he too had donned a set of ebony armor, and although it was quite similar to her own set, his was at least an inch thick in even the weakest places, and held a prominent wolf motif that her armor lacked. As opposed to the chainmail and cloth skirting, his armor held wolf fur, and she found that it looked to be a mix between the wolf armor of the Companions, and the ebony armor she currently possessed. He held no weapon, but his gauntlets had been modified, and looked to be thicker and denser, with thick knuckle spikes four inches in length. It would be a wicked way to end someone, but she had to admit, he wore the armor well.

Bowing her head, she spoke, her voice laced with shame and regret.

"My Thane, this is a very gracious offer, but I must decline. A person of my stature cannot wear armor of this caliber. It would be unfitting, and-"

"I'll be the judge of what is proper and what is not. Now don your armor." He brushed off her comment without so much as a care, and began walking toward the center of town, not waiting for her to follow.

"Where are you going?" She called out to him, following behind, her new suit of armor bundled between her arms.

"Jorrvaskr! To feast!" He replied jovially, looking back with an amused smile.

Now _that_ was a surprise. So her Thane was a member of the Companions… He certainly was hardy enough, now that she thought about it, and he probably got along well enough with those _hooligans_, but Lydia was tired, and it was quite late at night.

"My Thane, it _is_ quite late… maybe we should rest." She protested weakly, hoping her Thane would reconsider.

"We drink till sunrise!" Spoken like a true Nord.

* * *

It was surprising, seeing just how well Søren got along with his fellow Companions, and it irked Lydia slightly, as she watched her Thane socialize. Just how long had he known these people? Especially that redhead, Aela, was it? She seemed a bit _too_ familiar with Søren for Lydia's liking. It was tasteless, the way that woman hung off her Thane like a common wench, flaunting her body like some sort of licentious barmaid. Lydia snorted and nursed her mug of mead (one of the many she had consumed that night), she was was probably rife with disease anyway, not that it concerned her any.

After all, it wasn't her business just who her Thane associated with, but she had to admit, he certainly surrounded himself with an interesting bunch. They were rowdy and uncouth, but she could see the appeal. From her seat on the bench in the corner, she watched them as they jovially exchanged stories, and Søren was celebrated for slaying his dragon, though she had not known that he had done it almost entirely alone.

Apparently a majority of the town guard had been slain during the first few minutes of battle, and Søren had run at the dragon in a suicidal charge, holding the beast by the neck as he wrestled it to the ground, dealing harsh blows as he fought. There was no one alive or dead who was either brave or stupid enough to wrestle a dragon, but in her opinion, he was an honest-to-gods hero, and now he was Thane of Whiterun.

And she was his housecarl.

"Hey girl, y' think y' could gimmie sum more mead?" The stench of foul breath assaulted her senses, and the slur of a drunken Companion shook her from her musings.

He was a sordid looking man, clad in leather, with bits of vomit still caught in his beard, no doubt from having far too much mead. The worst part was not only that he had somehow managed to slide up beside her, and was now mere inches from her, but that now, everyone in the hall was watching the exchange with mild interest.

"C'mon, girl, I need th' mead!" Her nose scrunched slightly in disgust, and the Companions laughed at what she assumed was her expense. This was not the kind of person she associated with at all.

"Get your own mead." She muttered, moving to stand, only to have her arm caught tightly. The drunkard was fast, and much stronger than she had originally assumed.

"Yer th' servant girl, th' means y' get th' mead!" He slurred loudly, now slightly upset.

"Now, Torvar, I think you've had enough." Her Thane made to stand, speaking in a pacifying manner while Aela loosened her grip on his arm slightly. The drunkard, now known as Torvar, looked at the Dragonborn as if he had sprouted a second head, and spoke confusedly.

"Bu' she's th' servant girl!"

"I am no_ servant_! And I am certainly no _girl_! I am a _woman_, and an _honored_ _housecarl_!" She exclaimed indignantly, standing fully while wrenching her arm from the drunkard's grasp.

"Ugh, I don' feel so goo-" And with that said, Torvar promptly emptied his stomach on the seat she had previously occupied. The Companions had a laugh at his expense, and one of their own, Farkas, she believed, made his way over to escort Torvar out of the hall. While that was happening, Lydia made her way to her Thane's side, and took a seat to his left, directly opposite that redhead, Aela.

Said redhead was quick to walk to Lydia's side, a smirk adorning her face as she quietly addressed the Battle-Born woman.

"Well _'honored housecarl'_, you handled that quite well… for a dignified _pack-mule_."

Immediately Søren's head shot up, and he was quick to shoot the Huntress a sharp look of disapproval, but she gave it no heed. Lydia on the other hand, clenched her fist to calm herself. So this was how Aela wanted to go about things? That was fine, two could play at that game, and Lydia had traded barbs with the best and worst in the king's barracks.

Putting on a sugary-sweet smile, Lydia stood to embrace the offending woman, and when she was no more than a few inches away, she spoke softly into Aela's ear.

"That's rich, coming from the girl who acts more like a _beast_ than a _woman_. You're like a dog in heat, with the way you hang off my Thane."

Aela grinned viciously, patting Lydia on the back roughly while holding the embrace.

"Oh? So the milk drinker has some _balls_ after all…"

Lidia's cool, confident smirk was challenging, and she broke the embrace swiftly, making eye contact with the redhead as she spoke, her voice laced with contempt.

"The only milk-drinker I see here is _you_, harlot, and _I'm_ quite content to be a woman, thank you."

At this, Aela barked out a sharp laugh, and after shooting the Dragonborn a grin, she turned back to Lydia, a genuine smile on her face.

"I like this one, Søren! She's got a sharp tongue on her!" The female Companion patted the Battle-Born woman on the back, and grabbed a pair of tankards from the table.

"Drink with us, housecarl!" Handing Lydia a tankard of mead, Aela hammered down half her own with a single swig, laughing merrily after she set her drink down. Lydia, who was decidedly much less of a drinker, took a small swig instead, and sat, finding a bit of comfort in the wooden chair.

"That armor of yours, it's quite the sight." From beside her, Vilkas addressed her quietly, taking a bite from a shank of venison. He was one of the quieter Companions, and maybe that was why she remembered his name. Either way, he was completely right.

She was quite a sight in the ebony armor her Thane had forged. She looked like a goddess of war, ready to descend upon the battlefield, sword raised and ready to strike, and in her opinion, it also accentuated her figure nicely, not that she would ever say anything about that particular detail.

"Thank you. My Thane forged it for our upcoming journey." Vilkas nodded slowly, taking another bite while mulling the information around in his head. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke again, with a slight bit of reverence in his voice.

"I knew he was skilled with the forge, but I had no idea he was at that level. He has taken a trade and made it into an art."

Lydia nodded, taking another sip of her mead.

"Such high praise, but if you appreciate my Thane's work so much, perhaps you should ask him to forge you a suit."

Vilkas nodded, grinning slightly. "Aye, I may just. But art is rarely cheap, housecarl."

Lydia laughed, agreeing as she finished off her drink and poured another for herself. It was nice to take a load off after a long day. She could hear Aela and Søren speaking to the others animatedly in the background, but right now, she just wanted to lean back and drink her mead. She would deal with the consequences in the morning.

* * *

When Lydia awoke, it was to an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar bed. Her head was pounding, she felt slightly nauseous, and the bright candles that lit the room made her eyes hurt. And then suddenly, there was Aela's face, not an inch from her own, grinning broadly, as if the redhead took enjoyment from her anguish.

"Good morning,_ sunshine_! Glad to see you're finally awake!" And of course she would shout, too. What an absolute bitch.

"Where am I?" Lydia muttered hoarsely, her throat dry from dehydration.

"The Jorrvaskr living quarters," Aela stated matter-of-factly, grinning widely, "We always have a few spare beds at the end of the night, so your _beloved_ Thane asked if you could sleep here."

"And what of my Thane? " The brunette inquired, attempting to rise, only to fail miserably. Aela's grin only grew wider.

"Oh, about that. He took to my quarters last night, so he should still be asleep." At this, Lydia's eyes widened slightly in shock, and Aela, who had noticed, began to laugh.

"I think you misread the situation, housecarl. I did not lie with the Dragonborn last night." She paused, and her grin became a venomous smirk as she looked down on Lydia condescendingly.

"I just wanted you to know how easy it could have been." And with that said, the Huntress turned and left, her hips swaying as she walked, the smug smirk from earlier never leaving her face.

* * *

Breakfast with the Companions was an interesting affair. Everything was ordered chaos at the table, and each of the Companions came and went as they pleased, eating or drinking at their own leisure.

When Lydia arrived at the table, she saw her Thane, freshly groomed, fully armored, and enjoying a meal of lamb stew and mead amongst his fellow Companions, Aela hanging off his arm as she had the night before. After noticing the brunette's arrival, the female Companion shot Lydia a smug look before going back to her conversation.

It made Lydia angry, watching Aela get away with such behavior, but she supposed it was mostly because the redhead chose to act while others were either occupied or distracted. It was dirty and underhanded behavior, unfit for someone of Lydia's status, but regardless, she wouldn't sink to those levels.

The brunette had always considered herself above bullying, and so, she composed herself, confidently striding over to her Thane. Taking a seat to his left, she smiled and greeted him formally while disregarding the fact that she felt absolutely wretched inside, and that her head felt like splitting in half. What an absolute joy it was to have a hangover.

"How are you this morning, Lydia?" Søren asked between spoonfuls.

"I am quite well, my Thane. And you?" Lying through her teeth was not her strongest suit, but she supposed she managed well enough.

"Fit enough to slay a dragon!" Wonderful. That was _exactly_ what she needed to hear right now.

"Oh? How exciting! I bet you're just _dying_ to slay a dragon, Lydia." Suddenly there was Aela, cutting into the conversation with a Cheshire grin.

Lydia smiled tightly, giving the redheaded Huntress a look as she spoke.

"It's dangerous, but I'd rather die fighting a dragon than some bear." Surprisingly, Søren let out a hearty laugh, clapping her on the back with his massive hand, a grin on his face.

"That's the spirit! We'll be slaying those beasts in no time!" Her Thane's answer made her smirk, but more importantly, it shut Aela up, which was an unexpected perk. Her day was getting better after all.

Grabbing a small cherry pastry and a tankard of water, Lydia began to eat, paying no mind to the others around her as she attempted to stomach what she could. She would need all the energy she could get later on; after all, today would be the day they left Whiterun, and if they were to travel, they would need the daylight. Traveling by night was an option as well, but it was much safer during the day, and the mountains of Skyrim could be quite treacherous in the dark. Also, she had absolutely no desire to fight a dragon at night. That just sounded like a stupid idea.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Søren rising from his seat. Turning to her, he spoke. "Lydia, I'll be at Belethor's. Come find me when you've finished your meal, but don't rush yourself. Take time to stomach something that'll last you."

"I thought as much, my Thane. I'll be along shortly." She replied, giving the giant of a man a curt nod.

Taking that as his cue, Søren departed, giving a round of goodbyes to his fellow Companions before leaving.

It was a loud and chaotic affair, but Lydia found it endearing in an odd way, and after things had calmed down slightly, she took a piece of dried meat, and bit down, tearing off a small chunk. It was tough to chew, and slightly salty, but the meat had a savory taste, and she found it quite delicious. Her stomach hadn't completely settled, but the light breakfast had helped to calm it, which she was grateful for.

Taking a swig of water to wash it down, Lydia stood quietly, leaving out of the back door without drawing any attention. In her opinion, it was better if she left quietly. These were not her people, and Aela was sure to make trouble for her if she stuck around any longer than necessary. Maybe it was kind of a cold way to go about things, or maybe it was cowardly, but she didn't really know these people well enough to care too much.

It was much brighter outside than she remembered, but it was just as cold as it always had been. Skyrim was always cold in the mornings, not that it was really ever warm any other time. The warmth inside Jorrvaskr was very appealing, tempting even, but she had a Thane to find, so she headed toward the market district of Whiterun, taking a bite of her dried meat as she went.

After a quick walk, she spotted her Thane in the square, speaking with Carlotta and Mila Valentia at their stand. They exchanged pleasant words (which Lydia found strange, seeing how defensive Carlotta could be around men in general), and Mila seemed especially fond of the giant Nord. Carlotta and Søren had a good laugh at something the Imperial woman said, and Mila asked for a ride on the Dragonborn's shoulders, of which he obliged without objection.

It made Lydia smile, watching her Thane interact with the little girl. From what little time she had spent with Søren, she could tell that he was a good man, if a little rowdy at times, and the fact that he was good with children meant that he was also a _kind_ man, and kindness was a trait she valued greatly in a leader. If he was patient with children, he would one day be patient with his subjects, even if they acted like children, assuming that he eventually rose to a position of power, of course.

Regardless, they would need to depart soon, and so, as the housecarl, she did the only appropriate thing in the given circumstance.

She cleared her throat as loudly as she could.

Almost instantly, her Thane turned to her with a slightly bewildered look on his face, and on his shoulder, an equally bewildered look from Mila. It took everything in her power not to laugh, but she maintained a straight face, opting for a slight smirk and a cocked eyebrow instead.

"My Thane, might I suggest we leave the hold soon?" Almost immediately, he sobered up, his demeanor becoming more serious.

"I suppose we should. Come off me, Mila, the time for play is at it's end." He helped the little girl off his shoulder with a small smile, and set her in her mother's arms, patting her on the head with his massive, armored hand, before addressing Lydia.

"I purchased a pair of rucksacks. We'll have enough food for at least half a week, and we'll have enough equipment to get us along well in the wild. Can you hunt?" She gave him a pointed look. Could she _hunt_? What kind of question was that?

"Of course, my Thane. I am quite capable with a bow." She did her best to keep the patronizing tone from her voice, really, she did. He nodded in response, ignoring her tone, and after giving his goodbyes to both Carlotta and her daughter; he turned and left, heading toward Belethor's, no doubt expecting her to follow, which she did.

Belethor was unpleasant as always, but after picking up their rucksacks, things went smooth enough, and fifteen minutes later, they were at the gate.

Suddenly Lydia was a bit apprehensive. This would be her first time leaving the Hold in almost ten years. She had left the walls of Whiterun a number of times, whether it was to go hunting, for a stroll, or to go on patrol, but she would actually be traveling across all of Skyrim, not just a half-mile beyond the settlement.

Suddenly, she felt small and insignificant.

"Lydia, is something wrong?" It was odd, how Søren always seemed to pick up on her feelings, but she supposed it was some sort of 'gift'. Shaking off the negativity, she moved forward, head held high. She was about to embark on one of the most important journeys in the history of Skyrim. She would be assisting 'the man who would slay dragons'. This was not something to feel small over. She was important!

"It's nothing to concern yourself over, my Thane." She assured the Nord, giving Søren a brief, confident smile as they took their first steps outside of Whiterun.

Immediately, the winter air assaulted her nose. The smell outside of the gates was so much crisper, and far fresher than inside the settlement, and she could pick up the scent of wheat, barley, and topsoil, as well as the grassy smell of the plains. The air was colder too, by far, but the sight before her more than made up for it. Sprawling plains of golden grass, flowing streams of clear mountain water, and farmlands as far as the eye could see; in the distance, flourishing forests of pine, dusted lightly by winter's coat, and steep jagged mountains on the horizon.

"Good, I need you focused, Lydia. We'll be traveling to the Throat of the World. We can stop in Riverwood, Helgen, and then Ivarstead if you'd like, but our goal is High Hrothgar. We'll be climbing those seven-thousand steps without stopping, so be prepared." Søren's voice brought her out of her slight trance, and surprised her slightly. The Throat of the World was the tallest mountain in all of Skyrim, if not all of Tamriel, and it was by no means an easy climb. There could be only one reason for her Thane to even bother climbing it.

Looking up at the dreadlocked Nord, she addressed him curiously.

"I assume you seek a council with the Greybeards, then?" He nodded in reply, walking with long strides, intent on his goal. It was hard to keep up at first, seeing as he was a full two feet taller than she, but after a while of him walking ahead, only to notice her far behind, running to catch up, they both found a comfortable pace, and the travel became much easier.

It was interesting to watch Søren move in a natural setting, mostly because it was so different from how he had acted while in Whiterun. In settlements, he was just like any other man, skirting around crowds of people with little trouble, even with his massive size, but in the wilds he became much more feral, moving with a purpose, often crouching low to the ground as he did so. She found it amazing, mostly because he actually seemed to be sensing the animals around him, maneuvering around them as if he were some large beast hunting prey. He seemed to be a natural predator while in the wild, which both scared and excited her, mostly because he seemed so at ease with himself and his surroundings, but also because a small part of her found it incredibly attractive, not that she would ever admit it to anyone.

The other thing she found was that he just did not _stop_. Søren was always moving, even while eating, and although she was loath to admit it, Lydia was quickly becoming tired. They had only been moving for about forty-five minutes, but the pace was hard and fast, and she was ready to rest for a moment. When he moved, she had to move with him, and for all the crouching, sprinting, and rolling he did, she could feel the burning ache in muscles she didn't know she had. It was thoroughly exhausting.

"My Thane, might we rest for a moment?" Søren looked back at her questioningly, but after seeing her sweaty, fatigued appearance, he gave a brief nod, looking around before heading toward a nearby stream.

When they arrived, the massive Nord took a seat on a nearby rock, and gathered his dreadlocks into a loose topknot, using some spare twine to keep it neat, while she took to drinking from the stream, enjoying the feel of the chilled water as it ran down her throat. Splashing a bit on her face to clean off the grime, she rejoined her Thane, utilizing a nearby log as a bench (and it felt _so_ good to just sit), before taking out a piece of dried meat to eat. It was not nearly as savory as the dried meat the Companions had prepared, but it would give her the energy she so desperately needed. She took a bite.

"Settlement life has made you weak. We will fix that soon enough." She hated to admit it, but he was right. In Whiterun, she had a warm bed, all the food she could ever need, and a stable routine that paid a decent salary. Sure, she stayed in shape (or at least she thought she did), and fighting in battles had come naturally and easily for her, but she had always been able to live comfortably and well. There was rarely any real struggle, and she didn't have to exert herself too often… and that shamed her more than she would ever admit.

Out in the wild, she had to be on her toes, constantly alert and vigilant, so as not to fall prey to any creature (or dragon) that saw fit to make a meal out of her. She was forced to move more quickly and work harder than she ever had before, mostly because her life was in almost constant potential danger.

"I understand, my Thane. I will do my best to-" She was cut off, however, when he interrupted her, his tone sharp, but not angered.

"Don't _do_ anything, just _be_. To _do_ is to _act_, but to _be_ is to _become_. If you can _be_, you will _survive_. If you simply _do_, you will die." Lydia nodded. Søren could be oddly philosophical or insightful when he wanted to be, but she supposed he had a good point. She had to put everything she had into whatever she did now, lest she be killed in some horrid way. After all, just because nothing had come at them yet, it didn't mean it wouldn't.

Speak of the Devil.

The light rustling of tall grass and the low growl at her back made Lydia acutely aware of the danger she was in mere seconds prior. Lydia tensed her body, preparing to move, and across from her, she could see her Thane tensing up as well, his eyes seeing past the brunette. In that instant, everything blurred into motion.

The sabre cat pounced, and Lydia threw herself to the ground and into a roll, unsheathing her broadsword in the process as Søren sprang into motion, rocketing forward, fist cocked back and ready to greet the wild beast head on. The housecarl turned swiftly, transitioning from her roll to a crouching position, and with a hard thrust, her sword sank into the wild cat's side as her Thane's spiked gauntlet made contact with the massive feline's skull, breaking through the bone with a sickening crunch.

The sabre cat's carcass collapsed, falling to the ground, and almost crushed Lydia in the process. Søren looked down at his housecarl, slight approval written across his features.

"You reacted well. Your situational awareness needs work, but enough time out here or dungeon crawling will bring you up to speed quickly enough." The giant Nord muttered, speaking more to himself than Lydia as he lifted the cat with almost no effort, setting it beside his rock, before taking a seat. Unsheathing a medium sized dagger from the inside of his boot, Søren set to work on the pelt of the sabre cat as if nothing significant had occurred.

That made Lydia angry. Had that been some sort of test? He had plenty of time to warn her, and yet, he didn't.

"My Thane, why did you allow the sabre cat to attack me? You had ample time to react to the situation, but you chose to act only at the last possible moment." Her tone was accusatory, and she did little to hide her indignation. Was this man just playing with her life like it was some sort of novel concept? If so, she would be having _none_ of that.

Without so much as looking up from the task at hand, Søren addressed his housecarl in a very detached manner. "I wanted to see how quickly you'd react. Based on that, I could understand just how long you'd survive out here on your own, and how much I'd need to teach you to keep you from dying."

Lydia had to admit that he raised a few good points, but she was immensely irritated with his method of execution. While he got the answers he needed, she was unsure of just how much she could trust him now. Would he throw her to the wolves just to see if she could fight against bad odds? How far would her Thane go? After all, Søren had allowed a wild sabre cat to attack her, just to see if she was paying attention to her surroundings. Her odds didn't look too good.

"Will you be throwing me at dragons in the near future, my Thane?" Sarcasm was one of her strong suits. Surprisingly, Søren looked up from skinning the massive feline, more irritated than anything else, though his tone held a note of seriousness in it.

"That's exactly what I'm hoping to _avoid_, Lydia."

She folded her arms, glaring at the giant of a man that sat in front of her.

"How is almost letting me die avoid-" The words died in her mouth as Søren shot to his feet, towering over the Nord woman, his face a mask of fury. Speaking quietly, he looked into her eyes, and she recoiled at the fire in his gaze.

"You _dare_ to question _me_? To question my motives? Did you not take a vow to serve me tirelessly?"

"Yes, my Thane." Lydia whispered, looking away so as not to meet his furious stare. He was quick to grab her by the jaw, and soon enough, she was looking into his eyes again.

"And did you not _implore_ me to take you on as my housecarl?" His voice rose in volume to a speaking level, and she could almost taste the venom as it rolled off his tongue. It brought her great shame to know that not only had she questioned her Thane only a few hours after departing from Whiterun, but also that the man she had sworn to serve faithfully under had used her own words against her.

"Yes, my Thane." Her lip quivered as she whispered again, feeling absolutely awful. She was supposed to be a pillar of unwavering, unquestioning loyalty, supporting her Thane on his crusade, and yet, throughout the entirety of their time spent together, she had questioned almost every one of his actions.

"To tread upon flesh and bone, and follow me to death!?" He continued, his voice rose yet again, and she found him to be roaring at her in a fury she had previously never seen.

"Yes, my Thane!" Tears sprang forth from her eyes, and she found herself shouting as she replied, grief stricken from her dishonorable behavior. Lydia collapsed to the ground, openly weeping.

His eyes narrowed, and he released his grip on her jaw, turning away as he spoke, his voice suddenly weary.

"_All_ I ask is that you _trust_ in me, and in doing that, you will survive even the Gates of Oblivion. But you must _trust_, if nothing else."

"I will!" The Nord woman cried out, standing while composing what dignity she had left.

"Good."

* * *

AN: All right, so this was the first chapter of 'Nord Crusher'. This is my first attempt at fanfiction, so I'm hoping you enjoyed the unedited, unbeta'd version, though there are probably still a few kinks in it, but it's a work in progress.

The next chapter will be from Søren's perspective, the following will be from Lydia's, and they will alternate in that order, with some interludes or chapters from Aela's (or another character's) point of view.

As a further note, there will be dragons from the next chapter onward. Prepare for things to get much darker and grittier from this point onward. This won't necessarily be a happy story, and I'm trying to take a realistic approach to things. Dragons are absolutely terrifying creatures in my opinion, and they will be written as such. Also, the people that Søren and Lydia interact with, including the members of the different guilds will effect or force them to alter their perspectives slightly or reflect on past events, which may or may not be pleasant. As people grow, they change, and are changed by their surroundings, after all. These changes may not always be for the best, either.

The pairings have already been decided, and they might be a bit surprising for some, or maybe not. I may mull things over and decide to go in a different direction with the plot or the pairings if a good enough point is raised, but for the most part, I have a very fixed timeline in mind for these characters.

I plan to really flesh out the characters, a lot more than they are in game. I want to make them breathe and feel and hurt like people, and I hope that I can convey that accurately.

I would absolutely love to hear _positive_ or _constructive_ feedback. I'm always interested in hearing new ideas, as I am very open-minded and receptive to such things, but I don't need them to write, and chapter updates will be hopefully done on a monthly basis, mostly because I write for fun. I will not tolerate flames, and any I receive will be ignored and promptly deleted. I apologize, but I honestly don't have time to waste on sophomoric insults.

Disclaimer: I hold no rights to Skyrim, or any of it's affiliated titles. I do, however, love to write.


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